Ways to Annoy Voldemort
by Phan-wrighter
Summary: Based off of the list 150 Ways to Annoy Voldemort on A young lady goes out of her way to become the world's best Death Eater, but does she have something more up her sleeve?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter merchandise, books, characters, theme music, owls, parchment paper, peacock feather quills, or Honeyduke's chocolate. Trust me, Voldemort would be much eviler if I did… such a pity…

Well, everyone, this is my fist submission, so please don't kill me! I've worked hard on this one. I must warn you, however, that this fanfic is VERY OOC.

And now, on with the story!

Chapter 1

Voldemort leaned back in his chair and sighed. He would really have liked to have Wormtail there to make fun of and be cruel to, as well as to plot his murderous schemes against that dratted Harry Potter. However, Wormtail had been caught last night by one of the Ministry's Aurors, so the Dark Lord now had no one to plot evil things with.

He sat up slowly and wished that Lucius wasn't so busy. Keeping him away from the Ministry was hard, as he had a son at Hogwarts and as he had a huge mansion that was being closely watched to see if, once he'd escaped from Azkaban, he hid there. But if he was found, he could be forced to talk.

It was almost night. Voldemort had planned his first real outing alone for almost 17 years for tonight, and he planned to go either convince, subdue, or "Imperius" someone into joining him. He stood, picked up a dark black robe, and slipped it on. He glanced in the mirror, gazing at his unnaturally long, thin fingers and gleaming red eyes, with pupils like a cat's. He slipped the hood over his frightening face and exited his parents' old house. Luckily, the house was still ignored and avoided by most of the population, so he did this without notice.

He headed up the street, keeping in the half-lit sides of buildings. He smirked as a car, tearing down the one-way street, narrowly missed a large, ginger-colored cat with thick fur and bandy legs. It yowled at him as he passed, and he hissed, "Go away!" in Parsletongue.

As he sidled down the street, he suddenly wished longingly for a homemade orange cappuccino. He had had only one before, when he was a child, and he suddenly felt an urge for one. So he glided down the road, getting increasingly darker, staring at the windows so as to get an idea of who was not home.

He had barely been walking for a minute when he saw the perfect house- dark windows, no car, or even a bike. It looked like the house of someone who could make a cappuccino.

He snuck up the walkway, pulled out his wand, and muttered, "Alohamora." The lock in the door clicked, and he pushed the door open. His eyes glittered evilly as he closed the door with a snap and wandered through the house, turning on lights as he went.

The front door opened to the family room, with a large, soft couch in the far wall. It was ugly, and he blasted it with his wand, sniggering. He wandered down the hallway and came upon the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, expecting to see hundreds of cooking ingredients, but instead only found cans of soda and a Mars Bar that looked about three million years old.

He closed the fridge door just as he began to hear a strange noise in the back of the house. He followed it down the hallway. Running into many pictures of snakes. One time, he ran into his own Dark Mark. He realised, as he looked back, that there was one right on the window in the family room.

He got to the end of the hallway, where he was finally able to tell what the sound was. It was music. My word, he thought, I haven't heard music in forever. He smiled as he remembered a song he had heard when it had first came out, a strange song called "Hampsterdance." It was the only song he had ever liked. This music was nice, too. It had a wonderful tune, and had even more wonderful lyrics. It seemed to be called "I Wish I Had An Evil Twin," and it was issuing from a small stereo by the small bed. Next to the stereo was a small glass of water, filled with ice. There were little droplets of water running down the sides, and he realized that the house was, in fact, occupied by someone other that himself.

He heard a tiny noise issuing from the closet to his right. He snuck up on the door, and very slowly began to turn the knob. There was a gasp from inside, and he couldn't quite tell what they were gasping in- fear? Excitement? Horror?

He couldn't wait any longer. He yanked the door open.

"VOLDIE!" a high shrill voice screamed. A small figure flew out of the closet, brown hair was flying everywhere, and the figure gave him an awfully big hug. "Oh, Mr. Voldemort, Sir, I've ALWAYS wanted to meet you! I'm gonna be the _best _Death Eater that you ever did see!" It looked up at is hideous face and grinned at him. "I'll even put the Imperius curse on myself and tell me to be eternally loyal to you!"

Voldemort just gaped at her. Even with his most devoted Death Eaters, he had never met such a reception. No one had ever hugged him. No one. EVER. Somewhere in his brain, a voice, his practical voice, said, "You can't put the Imperius curse on yourself. It wouldn't work. You'd be in suspended animation until someone could snap you out of it." Blearily, he repeated his thoughts out loud.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he is the boss!" the young lady cried. "He is BRILLIANT!" She looked up adoringly at him, and chirped gleefully, "I'll just get my stuff and we'll get to your house! Or wherever you live," she added, looking down. "I admit that I've never actually seen you come out of any house." She ran out of the room. After a moment, he saw her in the window looking out at the back yard.

He sat smartly on the bed and began to think. His brain was having a furious battle with itself. He hoped no one ever found out about this, or he'd be in St. Mungo's before you could say "Morsmordre." One side of his brain was screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO!" like a little child would when it had been told to clean his room. "You can't use HER as a Death Eater," he shouted to himself, giving himself a headache, "because she's too hyper! She'll drive you insane!" However, the other side of his brain smiled and said, "I can certainly tell she wishes to help me. Enthusiasm is nice in a job application. If she doesn't want to help me take over the world, I'll eat my wand." He stood, and walked to the other side of the room. His brain having said this to itself, he repeated it out loud. "If she doesn't want to help me take over the world, I'll eat my wand."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we, Tommy-boy?" said a small voice from behind him. At this, his brain reeled, and he whirled around, expecting to scare her. It didn't work. She was grinning from ear to ear, and when he whirled to face her, he thought that if her smile were any wider, the whole top half would come off. "All right," he growled, "you're hired, but I'm going to have a trial run first. If you can't behave, you're out. If you prove yourself, you're a Death Eater."

"Whee!" she shrieked, giving him a bigger headache. "I'll be wonderful, Tommy-boy! You just wait!"

He stared at her, and then said in a dangerous growl, as if there was no choice, "Before we go, would you care to make me an orange cappuccino?"

She giggled. "Come on, Volders," she said, and led him to the kitchen.

Well, that's the first chapter. The song mentioned above, "I Wish I Had An Evil Twin," is a real song- one of my favorites of all time, in fact- performed by the Magnetic Fields, an alternative group that I recommend to everyone who has a dark sense of humor and/or loves romantic songs that discuss killing your wife. :-P By the way, for those of you who are Baudelaire fans, the head singer, Stephin Merritt, is also Lemony Snicket's best friend and he does all the music on the cassette tape recordings of the books as the Baudelaire Memorial Orchestra. Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own Becky. She is mine. Apart from that, none of this is mine. I don't own a carpetbag, I don't own Bella, and I don't own Tommy-kins. I do, however, own serious enjoyment in writing ridiculous disclaimers.

One day, there was this little kid. She enjoyed writing as a hobby, and so she wrote a fanfic on Harry Potter. Well, the day she turned 13, she got an account on this website called fanfiction dot com. She submitted the story that she had been working on for some time, and within three hours of submitting it, she got two reviews that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So, she ran back to her little Word document that held the second chapter and submitted it to fanfiction dot com as well. This little girl was me… er, is me. I will try to update as often as possible, but with school, band, and piano, it might take some time. However, I'll try to reply to the majority of my reviewers if I can every chapter. I also take requests for guest appearances. Tell me your email address and a little bit about yourself and I'll try to include you.

theatrechica: thank you! what's REALLY funny is that I have created a habit of calling him that all the time now, and it's totally accidental!

Strange Principles: nice screenname, and thank you! I got a poke!

Chapter Two

She sidled into her room, clutching only her tiny carpetbag in her hands. Everything about her was tiny. Everything she owned was tiny, she had a tiny voice (though it carried a long way), and she was tiny. Now her new room was tiny. The farthest wall was a window, and in the middle of the room was a tiny bed. In the corner was a tiny wardrobe.

She grinned at the evil man behind her. "Oh, thank you!" she cried, running to the wardrobe, and pulling clothes out of her miniscule bag. It obviously had a charm on it so that the inside was larger than the outside, because the outside looked as though it could barely hold four days' worth of clothing. Pretty soon, however, she had enough robes and muggle clothes in there to clothe her for a month. The bag didn't look any emptier.

She immediately flopped down onto the bed and said, "Goodnight, Tom."

He whirled around and walked down the hallway, never hearing the soft footsteps of one trying desperately hard not to be heard. The one attempting not to be heard was clutching a black sharpie…

The next morning, Voldemort awoke to the absence of a headache and a blissfully blank memory of last night's events. He got out of bed and wandered blearily down the hallway. He wondered vaguely if he had gotten drunk last night, and that was why he couldn't remember what he'd done. He walked down the stairs and stumbled into the kitchen. He heard cheerful chatter in that room, so he swerved into the living room. After a moment, he realized that it was Bellatrix Lestrange, his most devoted servant. He smiled slightly. Death Eater meeting today, he remembered. He got up and wandered back into the kitchen.

"HI VOLDERS!" a high-pitched voice screeched. Bella, standing beside the Death-Eater-to-be, smirked as she listened to the small voice. Then, as she looked up to say, "Good morning, Dark Lord," she stopped mid-sentence as she gazed at Voldemort without his hood up. She had seen him like this on many occasions, but something shocked her this time.

He stared at the small young witch grinning up at him, and the night's events rushed back to him.

He then turned to Bella. "Have you two been talking?" he asked in a dangerous voice. "I don't wish to repeat the details."

Bella nodded dumbly, and he noticed that she had not acknowledged his evil presence this morning. "What is it, Bella?" he asked. She had gotten used to talking to him quite a while ago, so why should she be suddenly quiet?

"My Lord…" she gasped. Then a strange change came over her face. Her husky laugh rang out in the kitchen as she grinned, staring at Voldemort.

He glared at her, and the laughter quickly subsided. "My Lord…" she tried again. She struggled not to laugh and burst out, "Your FACE!" She turned away so that she could stop laughing.

He whirled away so that he could storm to a mirror, feeling his face as he went, as the young lady called after him in a worried tone, "I think Bella's dying, Your Baldness!"

He growled at his _new_ nickname from her as he entered the bathroom and stared heatedly at the mirror. He struggled desperately to remember the tiny witch's name. She had told him last night. Becky, it had been. Stupid name for a human being. Maybe a hamster… he stopped dead.

As he stared at his reflection, he saw, circling his eyes, two large rings drawn in black Sharpie. There were lines coming off from these circles, going around his head. There was even a nice little detail between his eyes that made it look like tape. It almost looked like… glasses.

Harry Potter's glasses.

"BECKY!" he screeched, dashing down the hallway back to the kitchen.

They were both still in the kitchen- Bella, leaning over to face the floor, and Becky behind her, asking her what was wrong with a worried frown and laughing eyes. When he entered, she looked up, her eyes wide, looking like they were about to pop as she struggled not to laugh. "What is it, Dark Lord?" she asked quickly. His proper name for his Death Eaters to call him calmed him somewhat. He glared at her, and she frowned. "What is it?" she asked, sounding more urgent, and looking as though she was about to faint from holding in laughter.

"What… did… you… do… to… my… face?" he asked, with a measured voice.

"I don't understand," she replied calmly. "There's nothing wrong with your face."

"Liar!" he screeched, then demanded a mirror. She pulled one out of her pocket very quickly, almost as if she'd been expecting him to ask. He grabbed it, not noticing this, and glared fiercely at it.

"Look!" he cried, just as he glanced at his reflection. "My face has Potter's glasses drawn on them! See, here, on… my… face…" Then he registered what he was seeing. His reflection looked normal, for him. A little crazed, perhaps, but normal.

She took the mirror back and put it in her pocket. Her voice finally matched her eyes. "Potter's glasses?" she asked, laughing. "Is that what this is all about? You probably just had a nightmare about another of that horrible boy's beating you. Isn't that a scary thought, Wittow Dawk Lowd?"

He was about to retaliate about being called "Little Dark Lord" in a baby voice when he was unlucky enough to look up first.

Becky was holding up two fingers, one on each hand. On each finger was a tiny puppet, most artfully done. The puppet on her left hand was tall for a finger puppet, and it wore black robes with the hood up. The puppet on her right hand was shorter, wearing small robes and glasses. It had a head full of messy black hair.

"That's right, Becky," said the puppet on her left hand, whom Voldemort assumed she was talking to. "He's a meanie! That awful little Harry Potter!"

"Stop it, you horrible old wizard!" The puppet on her right hand bobbed up and down, almost as if it were talking with exaggerated gestures. "I will defeat you, Voldemort!" Even though Voldemort wasn't enjoying all this, he registered dimly how well she was mimicking Harry's and his' voices. Apart from the fact that they were also incredibly high and squeaky.

"Take this!" Harry squeaked, bending sideways and forward slightly so that it looked as though he were waving a wand. Voldemort-puppet keeled over promptly and flopped around, squealing, "I can't get up! I can't get up!"

"Enough!" the real Voldemort shouted. The puppets both looked up, acting terrified, while Becky smiled serenely. "Stop this nonsense at once!"

"If you're jealous," Becky said coolly, "or if you need them to plan schemes, you can borrow them in your plotting sessions. Speaking of which," she added, smiling slightly, "the first one should begin in just a few minutes."

Voldemort whirled around. He had been so angry with Becky, he hadn't even noticed the faint popping of Apparators as they entered his living room. They were all staring, with wide eyes and variously gaping mouths, at Becky, who waved gaily and cried, "Hello all! I'm the new Death Eater! Pleased to make your acquaintance!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter equals book

Book equals rights

Rights equals someone else's

Someone else's equals not mine

Harry Potter equals not mine

I'm probably going to send in the next two chapters soon as well, so be on the lookout for those! A bit of free time seems like it's going to rear its wonderful head soon, so there may be chapter six wandering into this story soon!

Chapter Three

The Death Eaters and Voldemort filed into the large basement, which had been redone to look like your everyday, typical evil-doer's room. There was a large table in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs and covered in a disgusting, moldy green tablecloth, for decoration. The Death Eaters enjoyed plotting in this room. One of them didn't. But no one could tell.

"Oh!" Becky cried, grinning around at everything. "This room is wonderful!"

"Yes!" squeaked puppet-Voldemort. "I rather enjoy it. It has a wonderful atmosphere of evil scheming goodness! I find myself having rather productive days in here."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" puppet-Harry screamed, her finger falling limp as he hung down. "He's too good for the Good Side, for the Order! Just too good! I can feel the evil working into my soul just as I stand here."

The rest of the Death Eaters looked oddly at her, as though they were trying hard not to laugh but failing miserably.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Dumbledore," puppet-Harry whispered. "Will you ever forgive—"

The swishing of a cloak and the hurried footsteps of someone who was thinking of murdering someone else in the close vicinity and in the very near future interrupted her skit.

"THAT NAME IS NOT STATED IN THIS HOUSE, MOST PREFERABLY IN THIS ROOM," Voldemort growled, very angrily, "UNLESS IT IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY!"

"Calm down, Dark Lord," Becky said, with an almost sarcastic raised eyebrow. "I honestly don't understand how you could possibly have been afraid of dear old Dumbles. Even when he was alive, he was an old barmy man who couldn't lay so much as a wrinkled hand on your excellent work."

She smiled calmly, and pointed Harry at the table. "Should we sit, now that everyone is present?" she asked.

Voldemort was looking livid, but it seemed as though if he said anything, he would explode. So he curtly nodded, his face flushing a nasty purple color. Becky nodded as well, the first time she had been serious since she had met Voldemort. She slipped the puppets off her fingers and sat, interrupting the silence only with a very soft, "Of course, I'll be able to give excellent suggestions to His Majesty."

Bella was the only one who had heard her. "Why?" she asked, sounding rude and accusatory, but looking more along the lines of curious and interested.

Becky smiled knowingly as she pulled her robes away from her legs so that it draped over the sides of the chair. This way, she wasn't sitting on an uncomfortable lump. "I taught him everything he knows."

Bella turned away again, disgusted.

Voldemort glared around the table once everyone had taken a seat. "I believe you have all met my new... uh... " He struggled for a term to call her. "My... uh... Apprentice." It was lame, admittedly, but the best he could come up with. The other Death Eaters, clad in dark robes, started to snigger. Of course they had met Becky. She was a little hard to miss.

He nodded curtly. "All right then!" he growled in his evilest voice. "Becky, you are to retain respect toward all my other faithful Death Eaters." Then he added, in his silkiest voice, "I do not necessarily require that my Death Eaters show the same type of respect to her, however." They began to laugh again. She smiled widely, her eyes cheerful. She then took out of her pocket a small felt finger, black felt, a small pair of scissors, beads, and twenty tiny pieces of colored construction paper. She lay this in a neat pile right in front of her and glanced around expectantly.

Voldemort sighed and sat down. He began the meeting immediately. "Potter's seventh year begins in three days," he said, cutting right to the chase. "He is still in Hogwarts, so therefore very protected. Then again, he is taking his N.E.W.T.'s this year, so we have one year before he is out of Hogwarts. We can either wait until he is out and plan all year-- boring, I say, but safe—"

"It's your funeral," Becky muttered, rolling her eyes and sighing.

"--or try to defeat him while he is at Hogwarts itself. I need to know your opinion." He gazed around, wishing for sleep.

The other Death Eaters were amazed. Usually, he tried to tell them what he thought and asked who would do what, when, telling them what to do as soon as they had answered him. He hardly ever cared what they thought.

Bella finally gasped. "If he succeeds in passing his N.E.W.T.'s," she whispered, "he will consider his job. What do you think it could be?"

The Death Eaters were quiet for a moment, thinking. They all noticed that Becky was cutting the black felt with her scissors and shaping it into the form of a robe. She slipped it over the felt finger and pulled a needle and black thread out of her pocket, very quickly sewing it up. She added long black yarn to the tip, as well as construction paper dots on which she drew heavy lids. It looked just like Bella. Except for the fact that it was as small as Bella's own finger. Then, as Becky calmly put away the felt, beads, paper, needle, thread, and the scissors, she said, very clearly, "An Auror." She sat up straight and added, "He enjoys saving people and is extremely good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. It is his dream job."

Voldemort nodded. "How can we prevent him from passing something he is so good at?"

Avery answered, after a moment, "Fail him at something he's bad at but is required for an Auror job."

Voldemort nodded again. "Right," he said in his high voice.

Bella's voice floated across the table. "How will we fail him, though?"

Voldemort's voice replied, "Get someone on our side to get into Hogwarts as a teacher and set hard work for him. Something you don't learn until a few years out of Hogwarts."

Bella's voice spoke back. "But will that work?" she asked, sounding as though she had swallowed a bit of helium, because her voice was a little high and squeaky. "He is, though I hate to admit it, not unintelligent. He could defeat us if we do that."

The Death Eater's heads were swinging back and forth between Bella and Voldemort, who were both holding their mouths closed as they spoke, like ventriloquists. They were also both looking confused.

When the Death Eaters noticed this shared confusion as to why they were talking, they turned as one to Becky, who was bobbing the Voldemort- and the newly made Bella-puppets up and down as though they were talking. She looked as though she was thinking out loud-- which, of course, was just what she was doing. She was looking expectantly at the Death Eaters, as though waiting for one of them to react.

Voldemort sighed, and then held out a long-fingered hand. "Give those to me," he said.

"Why?" Becky asked, a slight smile on her face.

The other Death Eaters gasped, but Voldemort simply said, with a slight smile playing across his own mouth, "They are obviously good, as well as easy to plot with. I wish to use them."

Becky very cheerfully handed them over, then added, "Then, for your sake, I'm going to use the Harry puppet because we need his reactions to your schemes. Will Harry keel over and die, or will he simply get a bonus point on his N.E.W.T.'s?"

Voldemort blinked, and then surprised even himself. "Go ahead, then."

She gleefully pulled Harry out of her pocket, and Voldemort slipped the other two nervously onto his fingers. He was aware that every single Death Eater was watching him, amazed. Was their evil Dark Lord actually about to use finger puppets?

As soon as Harry was slipped onto Becky's finger, he gasped. "It's Voldemort!" he squeaked. He immediately curled up into a little ball and lay on the table, shaking.

"Well," Voldemort said, still nervous but liking the puppets, which had immediately changed size so that they matched the size of his fingers. "That's an improvement, isn't it? At least he's scared."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Becky mine. Harry Potter no mine. Volders no mine. Boo-hoo. Things me could do…

Well, here's the next chapter, everyone! I'm still working on the format so that it'll be easier to read, so bear with me! Remember, I'm new to fanfiction, and from what everyone says, this is a new(ish) format, so I'm still grappling for understanding of it.

Chapter Four

Becky lay on her bed, staring out the window that was one of her walls. One of the panels opened, and she was expecting a letter that day. She had just gotten out of the Death Eater meeting, which had mostly consisted of bickering about how they would fail Harry at Potions, which seemed to be his worst subject. They imagined it would be because that traitor, Snape, disliked Harry, and everyone who wasn't Slytherin, for that matter, so that his Potions classes would be miserable.

She sadly slipped a book out of her pocket. It was a small book, the deceased Regulus Black's diary of being a Death Eater. He had written it, she had found out, in case any other Black or other person wished to become a Death Eater. If they read it, when forced to be a Death Eater, they would know how to cope. She sighed, and then began to read.

She was in the middle of scanning the pages of crimes gone by when there was a tap on the giant window. She looked up sharply, and then grinned. It was a large snowy owl, with big yellow eyes and three letters tied to her legs. It was Hedwig.

She opened the little pane that would open, and Hedwig soared into the room. She alighted and thrust her leg out to Becky, who rushed over and removed the letters. She did so an instant before Hedwig took off again. Right before she soared away again, Becky called softly out the window, "I'm sorry you had to come here to find me. I would get away, Hedwig. But I can't."

The beautiful owl turned back and gave one small, sympathetic hoot, then whirled around and flew out the window. Becky shut the pane of glass, caked with grime and soot, and ran back to the bed. She slammed onto the mattress and unraveled the first letter.

It was obvious by the handwriting that it must be from Hermione.

_Becky, _the letter said, in neat, even print,

_I'm not sure whether to trust you or not yet, but I'm choosing to trust you. Harry says that he met you this summer before he went back to the Burrow. He says you were helpful to him. I think we can trust you._

Becky thought back to that night and smiled. Harry had been planting flowers outside in his Aunt Petunia's garden. He was seventeen, but he was still under Aunt Petunia's power as long as he lived with her. Becky, as she passed by, had loudly mocked him, and then had waved her wand as the flowers magically moved into place. She had muttered her address, whispered that she was a spy and to trust her, and then Disapparated. It was funny to think back to that night, remembering his face as a complete stranger had helped him with his chores and told him that she was a spy.

_We promise we'll help you. We want to know what Voldemort is plotting. You must help us. We'll do what we can to foil his plans._

_I understand that it must be hard for you to foil his plans and act as though you're working FOR him. We'll help as much as possible. We'll also try not to write too often. We've been taught a way to talk without using owls. We're going to use it on you soon. Please have your wand on you at ten-thirty SHARP tomorrow night._

_My work at school will become very steep very fast, so we'll try to use wand communication then, as well._

_If you have any DADA tips, please send them to me. Harry would help, but he's busy with Potions. Snape may be gone, but Potions is still Harry's weakest subject, so he'll be struggling with that._

_Hermione_

Becky smiled and picked up the second letter, opening it thoughtfully. She could send Defense Against the Dark Arts tips easily; after all, she had gotten an O in her DADA N.E.W.T.'s. Hermione must really be suffering this year, if she needs tips.

She looked down at the next letter, and realized that it was from Harry.

_Hello Becky,_

_We're going to help you as much as we can. I'm glad I met you. You're doing something really brave for the Order._

_We're going to try and contact you tomorrow night. Hermione must've told you. She thinks of everything._

_Pig, Ron's owl that Sirius gave him, is ill. We don't know what to do. Hagrid doesn't even know what's wrong. Can you help?_

_Give us a list of the Death Eaters. We're going to turn them in to the Ministry. _

_Good luck!_

_Harry_

Becky sighed. Sadness everywhere. Ah, well. Better read Ron's letter.

_Hi Becky. This is Ron, Harry's best mate. Listen, how come you're not dead yet? If you aren't dead, tell us. If you are, wrong house._

She smiled as she produced her first genuine chuckle since she had arrived at this terrible place. She planned on enjoying replying to his letter.

She curled up into a little ball on the bed. Folding the letters into her robes, she tried to think of how to make Voldemort lose it. How would she make his head go spinning off to the grave? She thought for a moment, and then smiled. Becky was a sly gal. She knew how to annoy better than most.

She gathered what she would need for her next few pranks. Her wand, for starters. Also magic markers, glitter glue, yarn, knitting needles, and her hands and voice. She opened the windowpane in preparation.

These were going to be good.

tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR

Voldemort was smiling. Below him was Harry Potter, dead. His wand lay crushed beneath his feet. Dumbledore was lying on the ground, blood pouring from wounds. He panted hard, his awful silver beard tangled around his head in shining masses.

Voldemort leaned to Dumbledore's level. "You said you would protect Harry Potter," he hissed in his high, cruel voice. "But you failed. And now, I'm going to finish you--"

Dumbledore's fans and family were breaking down the door. James Potter rushed into the room, followed by Lily. Aberforth ran after them, and Sirius Black and Remus after him. Order member after Order member rushed into the room, as Dumbledore stood, regaining strength, blood simply fading away. Harry practically flew upwards as well, grabbing his newly repaired wand in his fist. They closed in…

Voldemort awoke, shaking. That was a rather odd dream…

The door was still being broken down. I must not have awoken properly. Or, he added, shuddering, I might not have awakened at all! He might be in one of those dreams where you think you're awake, but you're still asleep.

But the door was still shaking in the doorway. He decided, annoyed, "Even if it is a dream, I might as well kill something."

He shot out of bed and opened the door.

There was no one there. He thought, for a moment, that he heard a snigger, but he decided that he must have imagined it.

He went back to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I am NOT J.K. Rowling. NOT. I am Qatherinn Beta. NOT J.K. Rowling. As EVERYONE in the world knows, she wrote Harry Potter, and I didn't. I am writing about Sue Ellen Lanette, but NOT Harry Potter. Thank you for your time.

And now, on to chapter five!

Chapter Five

Becky smiled. A good thing that she knew that Harry had an invisibility cloak. It came in useful. She muttered the Banishing spell, then, as the cloak zoomed off and out through her bedroom window, she muttered the Summoning charm. Death Eater masks flew from odd places, such as behind a picture, beneath a rug, or down from the attic. She gathered them up as they flew her way. She grinned and pulled out her supplies. She ran back to her room, sat carefully on her bed, and began to work...

tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR

Voldemort woke up to the same nightmare as he had earlier that night. He glanced at his clock, gave a snarl, as it was 9:37 in the morning, and ran out of the room. He flew down the hallway towards the living room, robes billowing around him, feet stomping down onto the floor, raising dust. It must be an odd sight, to see an evil villain running madly through a house, red eyes shining from empty sockets.

His ears must not be working right, he thought, shivering again as he thought, once more, of waking dreams. Something in the living room sounded like music. Very annoying music, to tell the truth. He strained to hear it better. Banjo? he wondered. Yep, a banjo, sopranos, tenors, basses, melody, and harmony... it was beautiful! He hated it.

He tried to recognize the tune. He attempted to understand the words, but he didn't hear any, just a banjo, background "aaaaah-ing," and a whistling noise.

He was right outside the door. He reached for the doorknob, then stopped in horror as the music swelled immensely, pounding out at him. It was sweet. It was beautiful. It was terrible.

Becky.

He threw the door open. His Death Eaters' voices were pounding out at him, beautifully singing a wonderful song with odd words. He didn't understand what they were singing. It sounded like:

Sakura, Sakura...

Over and over again. It was annoying. It was his Death Eaters' voices singing about Japanese cherry blossoms. He didn't know this, of course. But that's what it was, just the same.

Becky was nowhere in the room. Lucius was in the corner, whistling and playing the banjo very well. Bella was dancing around in the middle of the room. Avery was the only one not being weird. He was standing in the corner of the room, grinning madly as he watched the Death Eaters singing. Voldemort strode over to him, frowning.

"Did you do this?" he asked in a deadly voice.

Avery grinned smugly. "Yes, I did," he said in a hollow voice, smiling widely.

Voldemort didn't notice the odd voice quality. "Crucio!" he cried, pointing his wand at Avery. He immediately screamed, and he flopped to the floor, twitching and quivering in pain.

After about ten seconds, Voldemort lifted the curse. "Why... did... you... do... this?" he asked, in an angry hiss.

Avery looked genuinely confused. "Waddya mean?" he asked, and then looked at the Death Eaters seemingly for the first time. "Whoa!" he almost managed to squeak, but he was interrupted by another bout of the Cruciatus curse.

He lay on the floor, moaning, as Voldemort put the Cruciatus curse on every one of them. This broke the Imperius curse that was upon them. It also caused them a severe little bitty bit of intense pain, but Voldemort didn't particularly care.

He stormed from the room, whirling down the hall, severely annoyed that the only good Death Eater was the most annoying thing in the world.

He turned into her bedroom and shouted angrily, "GET UP!" Becky jerked awake, practically soaring upwards, hair flying everywhere. Then, as she noticed that it was Voldemort, she grinned, bounced out of bed, and said cheerfully, "My, sir, you look particularly menacing today!"

He promptly whirled around again and disappeared from the room.

She grinned. Silently, she held up her fingers… that were clad in the finger puppets. "Three..." Voldemort-puppet said, followed by Harry-puppet saying, "Two..." and Bella stretched to Becky's wand. Bella picked it up and waved it, moving the carpet in the hallway over two inches. Exposing a Death Eater mask.

Bella whispered, "ONE!" just as a shriek rent the air. Voldemort ran back into her room. "You!" he screamed. She looked scared as her master ran, wild-eyed, into the room.

"Me?" she asked. "What did I do?"

"You," Voldemort snapped, looking deadly, "are weird, annoying, and are the only lucid person in this house besides myself. Can you explain this?"

He held up the mask with a shaking hand. Scrawled across the front of it were the words, "YOU ARE MY SON. GET YOUR MAGIC OUT OF MY HOUSE. TOM."

Becky sighed. "Your house," she said, in a way that one would explain that the sky is blue to someone very stupid, "is being haunted by the ghost of your father. He probably did this last night. I suppose that you being here for a long period of time has made him decide to terminate you. He doesn't know," she added, smiling, "that you are LORD Voldemort, and that you can't die."

She turned to her wardrobe. "Please leave," she said cheerfully.

"Don't tell me what to-" Voldemort began, but Becky cut him off.

"I need to change into new robes. Unless you want to see my Hello Kitty underwear?" She grinned evilly-- just like Voldemort, in fact-- as he ran from the room, eyes wide as he thought of what Hello Kitty could look like. Seeing as it was coming from her, probably something disgusting.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers: Why am I writing ridiculous disclaimers over and over again? You already KNOW that I don't own Harry Potter by now. Here's my new disclaimer: go back to any chapter before this one and read that one.

tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR

poet heaven: thx!

tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR

Chapter Six

Becky had changed into new robes. She had only been joking when she had offered to show Voldemort Hello Kitty, but it had given her an idea. If she could find out when his birthday was, then she could give him the ride of a lifetime.

But if she were to give him a birthday party, she would need a present to give him. She slipped her yarn and knitting needles out of her robes and sat on the bed. She charmed the needles to knit themselves an absolutely disgusting sweater and continued reading that book by Regulus Black. After a few minutes, she glanced at the clock. 10:37 AM. Nothing to do today, as all the Death Eaters besides her were in great pain from Voldemort's power. They were also slightly woozy from the Imperius curse she had forced Avery to put on them. No one would remember anything besides Voldemort and her. That was good. She couldn't be incriminated.

She looked forward to 10:30 tonight. She just couldn't do anything that would get in the way of her life goal of sending Voldemort to the loony bin. She also wanted to talk to someone from the Order for once. Harry, Ron and Hermione were great. But they were only children, after all. Maybe she could talk to Lupin. She had heard of Remus. Werewolf. Made him all the more interesting. She caught herself. She liked him already… because he was stranger than everyone else! He sounded nice because of WHAT he was instead of WHO he was! She was greatly annoyed with herself. I'm talking to Remus last, she decided.

The knitting needles were very quickly knitting an awful sweater, Weasley-style. It was going to be big and red, with a large green "T" on it. Then, on the back, it would say, in parentheses, "(V)." She smiled as she thought of what he would do when he saw it. Probably kill her. Oh, well. She'd do all the physical stuff first, and then let him kill her.

She lay down and tried to sleep. She had stayed up all night, decorating Death Eater masks. Every once in a while, she heard a yell as she randomly moved the mask away from where it was hiding so that it was found. Pretty pictures, she thought, smiling slightly. She drifted off to sleep.

She wasn't asleep for very long when she was awoken very abruptly by Voldemort knocking loudly on her bedchamber door. "Is Hello Kitty gone?" he called through the door.

Becky leapt silently out of bed, kicking the knitting needles and the horrible sweater under her bed, and hid the grin that was beginning to, in its heedlessness of where it was, wander across her mouth at the tone of childlike worry in Voldemort's voice.

"Yes," she called, trying not to sound like she had been napping on the evil job. "You can just waltz right on in, Tommy!" On a compulsive thought, she quickly summoned up her mouth organ and blew a couple notes which vaguely resembled a song from some big cinema movie she had heard in a commercial once. It was called "Hedwig's Theme" or something of the like. Whatever it was, it had the nifty effect of being creepy so that she was respectful of his Baldness as he entered the room, while at the same time, though she didn't know it, she was also mocking him via the famous movie.

Voldemort entered the room, robes billowing around him as he looked genuinely confused as to what in the world she was doing. She grinned around the little mouth organ and pulled it out of her mouth. Noticing him eyeing the little instrument, she offered it to him. "Would you like to try?" she asked innocently.

Voldemort snorted. This took him by surprise, of course, since he had never snorted in his life. "Of course not! I wouldn't be caught with a tiny… thing… in my mouth. I needed to talk to you about… this weekend."

Becky smiled calmly. "What about it?" she asked in her high voice.

Volders looked uncomfortable. Becky was amazed. This powerful, frightening man was nervous? She blinked, and for just one- perhaps two- milliseconds, she felt sorry for him. Trying to take over the world, trying to destroy every good person- I mean, c'mon, that HAS to get depressing. Then the feeling was gone, and the sly, slightly cruel Becky was back.

After a moment, Volders looked at the floor and said quickly, "I have a cousin, see. My mother, right before she died, put this spell on her. I can't harm my cousin because of some complications in the spell that was placed. Every time I try, it backfires on me. Which hurts a bit. Now, my cousin- her name is Debby—"

Becky burst out laughing. "Debby!" she asked, tears of mirth running down her cheeks. "Voldie-poo has a cousin named Debby?"

Voldemort glared angrily at Becky. "If you mock my name one more time," he said, furious, "you shall not live to see the light of day again." He began to walk slowly around the room. "Debby is coming down this weekend, " Voldemort continued, breathing hard. "This Saturday is… is… uh… oh, boy…" He seemed to be struggling very hard to say something. Becky waited for a moment. Finally, Voldemort finally spit out, "This Saturday is my birthday, and Debby insists on celebrating it every single year. I want you to be on your absolute best behaviour, especially with my other Death Eaters. Nothing is to go wrong."

Becky could not have been more pleased. "Of course, your Evilness!" She grinned, and summoned up a brush so that she could comb her hair. "I've gotta get ready!" She hurridly began to brush her hair, totally ignoring Voldemort informing her that it was Wednesday and that the party was actually on Saturday. Finally, Voldemort gave up and left the room. Just as he exited Becky's tiny bedchambers, she called after him, "You SURE you don't want to play the mouth organ?"

She swore she could see steam coming up from the evil man's bald head as he stalked down the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Non possiedo Saccheggia Gingilla o qualunque Saccheggia Gingilla la merce. Il Joanna Kathleen Rowling fa, ma faccio non. (That was Italian.)

Wow! I got a LOT of reviews since my last update! Here's I'll reply to all said reviews:

duckyv91: yes I did! I'm glad it did, and here's the new chappie! the eighth will probably come out on Sunday or possibly Monday.

Morvana Du'Miruvor: thank you 

HannahCimsGwendolyn: yeah she is, I loved making her up! Tommy-boy's birthday will be in Chapter Nine, so you don't have much longer to wait!

tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR

Chapter Seven

Becky sat at the ancient mahogany desk, quill in hand and eyes on the million-year-old parchment, yellow and cracked. She had been plotting right up until now, and, with a grin that looked positively demonic in the eight-o-clock sunset, looked over the evil plans she had written.

_1.) Introduce our evil mastermind with a grand announcement, a fake drumroll and an equally fake trumpet blare. Shower him with confetti and rice._

_2.) Once he enters the room, pinch him 'till he squeals to open up the party._

_3.) Allow Debbie to serve the wonderfully-prepared cake and refreshments that are Care Bear-themed._

_4.) When dancing during the party, be sure to dance the funky chicken._

_5.) Let off party poppers right in his face._

_6.) Begin a game of cards with him, but inform him that he has no poker face and how could he possibly expect to rule the world without one?_

_7.) He is sure to give a speech as to how he became who is he is now. If he does so, cry out, "You're breakin' ma little heart here, ole evil one!"_

_8.) Let Debbie present the stress ball, as well as the comment, "You know, I know this great therapist in London…"_

_9.) Present the sweater._

_10.) More dancing to liven up the party! Ask him to dance the polka with me._

_11.) Bring out the Twister! I believe Debbie has a daughter, Kali Melantha, and she can bring that out for dear old Volders._

_12.) Kali can bring her present, which should be some species of flower. He should be greatly offended._

_13.) If he ever gets around to almost killing me, (which he will within ten seconds) begin to quickly apparate and disapparate in and out of the room until he's sick of it._

_14.) During one of those in out in out sessions, put a bunch of nasty smelling stuff in his room. Not only will I be able to get some stuff for the Order, I'll be able to treat him to his "aromatherapy" at night!_

_15.) Lastly, once the party if over, make a speech that, although the name "Voldemort" doesn't draw forth nearly as much respect as, say, the names "Dumbledore" and "Potter," and even though Argus Filch will one day rule the world, we will always remember this night as the best birthday of the world's most evil pussycat._

_NOTE: During the entire party, when not doing any real tasks or popping in and out of the room, spray everything he touches with Febreeze._

Becky grinned a wide, toothy grin, then sighed and lay down on the smelly sheets on her tiny bed. She tried to sleep for a bit before ten-o-clock that night, but somehow she couldn't drift off. Too many thoughts were crowding her head, especially worry at how long she would survive Saturday night. The problem with her job was that there was just a slight risk to her life, taunting Voldemort day and night. Since this party was crucial to her plan, she had to live right up to the NOTE. However, if she knew Voldemort (and, by now, she did rather well), he would kill her before then. She would have to calm him down, calm his nerves so that he was more loose. She thought for a moment, then the most impossible idea came into her head. It was so ridiculous and idiotic, so impossible to pull off, that she didn't even consider it for a moment. However, it wandered to the back of her mind, where it began to bide its time before she would finally think about it again.

Becky got up and grabbed her wand. Giving the knitting needles a good jab to get them knitting faster and uglier, she raised her wand in the air. "_Accio crossword_," she muttered, and after a moment, this morning's crossword flew through the small windowpane she always kept open just in case she needed to summon anything. It flew up to her hand, and she transformed a small bit of yarn left over form the last skein of course yarn into a fountain pen. Grinning, she exited her room and wandered down the hallway to Voldemort's room. Bracing herself, she knocked twice and stepped back.

After a moment, the door opened a crack. Voldemort's high voice said silkily, "What is it, Becky? I am just a little busy right now."

Becky mustered up her most pathetic face. "Er, Dark Lord?" she asked timidly. "Could you, uh… could you…"

Voldemort gave an audible sigh. "Could I what?" he asked, voice high and exasperated. "I do have things to do, Becky."

Becky seemed to gather her courage. "Could you… erm… help me with the crossword?"

Voldemort grew visibly furious. "Why do you need help?" he asked. "Especially from me?"

Becky began to force fake tears. "B-b-because you're the D-Dark Lord!" she cried, making sure her lower lip was quivering properly. "You know e-e-e-everything!"

The evil man behind the door sighed loudly, and, after a moment, muttered, "Let me think for a moment…" He stared down at the floor for a short time, but when he heard a small buzzing slightly above his head, he looked up.

Above his head was a lightbulb, hovering just a few inches below the ceiling of his bedroom. Voldemort turned slowly to Becky, whose wand was pointed upwards at the floating bulb. The Dark Lord's eyes became slits as he shrieked, "What are you doing!"

Becky seemed to practically blow up. "You said you were thinking!" she shouted, her tiny voice carrying all the way to the other side of the house, and even through the giant front door, which was closed. An owl about thirty feet from the moldy front mat screeched, startled, and flew away. "I was just trying to help!" Becky ran from the bedroom doorway and, just to be on the safe side, Apparated back to her room a few feet down the hall.

Voldemort walked blearily back into his room, wondering if, perhaps, he was going senile. Which, just between you, Becky, and me, he was.

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Becky glanced anxiously at the small clock set up on her bedside table. It was 8:57, almost time for the Order to start speaking to her via wands. They had told her to have her wand ready, so her wand was up, ready for anything.

Suddenly, a flash appeared in the room and a silver hazy orb floated right under the tiny light fixture in the ceiling. The edges became more defined, while in the center, Becky could see an anxious face. The face was plain, but pretty, and a pair of buckteeth and bushy hair obstructed a bit of Becky's view of Hermione. Other than that, however, Becky could clearly see the young Order member, and she smiled.

Hermione looked, worried, at Becky from the shimmery orb. "Becky?" came Hermione's voice, sounding distrusting. "Is that you?" She turned around and gestured madly to something behind her that was out of Becky's view. "Come and see, Harry," she murmured. "Is this Becky?"

Harry pushed his way into the orb beside Hermione. After a short pause, the tousle-haired boy said, "Yep. That's Becky. Hey, Becky!"

Becky grinned. "Hey, Harry," she said softly. "Listen, before we start chatting, how are you doing this? What spell is this?"

Hermione grinned, and Becky guessed- correctly- that Hermione had invented the spell. "The charm is 'Facile sensus summonus'," Hermione explained. "I know a bit of Latin from learning all the spells, and this basically means 'easily summoning up something so that you can see it'. It you want it to go away, you repeat the spell, only adding 'nox' like the illumination spell."

"Thanks," Becky said, smiling. She cast around her mind for something to begin a conversation. After a moment, she remembered Harry's letter. "How's Pig?"

"Not so good," came a gruffy voice that seemed obstructed by something in its mouth. Sure enough, Ron sauntered into Becky's view, toting a pile of Chocolate Frogs and stuffing one into his mouth. Its leg kicked out, but Ron shoved it further in. "We still haven't figured out what's wrong. Hagrid's been looking him over, and Dumbledore even called for Professor Grubbleyplank. She doesn't know what's wrong, either." The frog had disappeared, so he opened up another packet of Chocolate Frogs and pulled off the card. "Oh," he exclaimed gruffly, "I got Mathilda Hopkirk again!" He tossed it idly over his shoulder and stuffed the new Chocolate Frog into his mouth. Becky heard a croak as he bit its head off.

Becky frowned. "What are the symptoms?" she asked, looking at the floating orb with concern in her eyes.

Hermione spoke up quickly- always ready to volunteer information, that was Hermione. "Well, he's been coughing a lot," she said briskly. "His eyes are all watery, and he makes this high-pitched 'hwhcoo' sound whenever he opens his beak… which is rather often." She sighed sadly. "He also has all his feathers constantly on end, all fluffed up. This has been going on for about two and a half weeks, and—"

There were footsteps coming down the hallway outside Becky's bedchambers. Voldemort was coming.

Becky turned quickly back to the threesome. "What's the spell to put it out again?" she hissed hurridly.

"Facile sensus summonus nox!" Hermione hissed back, and the orb faded away into just a gray mist, then that too was gone. Not a moment too soon, either, for Voldemort came in just a moment later.

"Becky!" he said, looking livid. "You shouldn't be so loud! In fact, you should, uh…" He faltered. Becky studied his face. He was about to say something that would greatly embarrass him. After a moment, he opened his little slit of a mouth again. In that high voice that brought so much fear to absolutely everyone in the world except for Becky, he said, "You should, er, be getting, uh… some sleep. Debbie's coming tomorrow." He looked at the floor, then said something that took both people in the room by surprise. "Good night," he said softly, with his voice slightly less high, and he exited the room.

Becky thought it would make a slightly louder sound for her chin to hit the floor than it did. Her mouth was hanging open in surprise, and her chin hit the floor with a much softer sound than expected.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I od ton nwo Yrrah Rettop. J. K. Gnilwor seod. Fi uoy nac daer siht, uoy era yleritne oot derob.

Yay, disclaimers! Also, yay reviews!

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ChoklatCheriCheesekuchen: Yay, I'm someone's favorite!

HannahCimsGwendolyn: yes, he is becoming nicer… the entire point of Becky's attempts is to—oh my gosh, you almost made me tell! You'll just hafta wait!

Strange Principles: don't fall! Yes, I thought Voldie-poo needed puppets :) and here you are, getting mentioned again!

Strangle Principles (again!): I'm an old bean! (giggles happily) just don't fall off your seat! Also, are you a Wallace and Gromit fan? I noticed the "m, cheese!" comment. Wendsleydale?

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Chapter Eight

Becky loved waking early in the morning. She walked slowly out the front door, savoring the early morning air. It was mid-summer, of course, so it was pleasant this early in the morning. The sun was just creeping sleepily over the hill, but birds were already twittering madly away in the trees. The leaves rustled up in the trees, making a soft, pleasant sound that greatly appealed to the crafty young lady. She walked a couple yards away from the house of evil and sat down on the soft, wet grass, staring off into the beautiful morning sky. A very daring butterfly who was apparently not afraid of Voldemort's vast estate and the dangers of fluttering on it floated past Becky's face. An American Sketchers sneaker set itself next to Becky's light brown sandal. The shoes sat in contentment for a moment, and then, very suddenly, Becky became aware that she was not the only person enjoying this beautiful morning. She turned in the direction of the shoe.

A beautiful young girl was sitting next to her, smiling and staring off into the sunrise like Becky had been doing just a moment ago. A flowing cream-colored shirt was hidden from view by a veritable wave of long wavy hair, brown as rich chocolate. The girl's fair skin had no blemishes and was reflecting the early morning sunlight, lighting up her face in much the same way her wide smile did. Her brown eyes sparkled with warmth.

After a moment, the girl spoke. "Hi," she said, still looking off into the sky. "Mama's coming in just a bit, but she sent me on ahead with a portkey." She turned to Becky for the first time and held out her hand. "I'm Kali Melantha Destin, and this is the first time I'm meeting Uncle Tom. What's he like?" Her smile grew wider, and in that moment, Becky knew that this girl would be perfect to help her with her plans.

The short young lady grinned. "I'm Becky Annemarie Carslin," she said cheerfully, taking Kali's hand and shaking it warmly. "Your name is beautiful. What does it mean?"

Kali grinned a somewhat evil grin. "Beautiful goddess of darkness," she said in a low, soft voice. "Mama says I've really lived up to that." Becky raised an eyebrow, and Kali laughed a rich, husky laugh, her head thrown back and shaking with mirth. "So what's Uncle Tom like?" she repeated, still grinning widely. "Mama says he's funny but has a short temper. You hang with him more, so you probably have a better idea. How would you describe him?"

Becky laughed her own high laugh, which sounded incredibly high indeed compared to Kali's low one. "He's got a short temper, all right," she said, grinning herself. "He's pretty smart and evil, and he won't pay much attention to you. However, I'll tell you something your mom will probably not know or may even deny. I know for sure, so I'll tell you, since Tom will completely deny it. He's loves to party. He likes to dance and play cards, and even…" Becky stopped for a moment. She thought back to the thought she had had the night before, the totally impossible idea that had seemed like it couldn't be done without certain death. However, this girl could help her. If what Volders had said was true, Debbie couldn't be harmed… and nor could any of her descendents. Kali would be perfectly safe. "The other thing he likes to do," she said, with an evil grin to match Kali's, "is… to get drunk."

Kali's mouth dropped open. "To get drunk?" she asked in shock. "Like, to drink wine?" She frowned, disbelieving Becky. Then her eyes lit up. "You're plotting something," she said, grinning again. "You're trying to mess up my uncle. You're not a Death Eater, are you? You're a nice person! You want to get my uncle drunk so that you can help defeat him!" Kali was a little breathless from arriving to this conclusion, but she sighed. "That is sooooooo cool!" she said.

Becky showed all her teeth. "I'm glad you approve," she said with a twisted grin and a gleam in her eye. "Now, this is what I'm going to—"

Suddenly, a bright flash of orange, pink and yellow flashed in front of them about ten feet away, and the giant this let out a huge huff of air. As this was on a hill, it began to roll downward towards the cemetery.

"Excuse me," Kali said, sighing and getting up. "That's Mama."

Becky looked upward, then bounced up as well. "Is your father not coming?" she asked, walking with Kali down the hill toward the rolling Debbie.

Kali looked at the ground, seeming to admire her navy-blue Sketchers. "Baba died," she said softly. She sighed a very small sigh again, then immediately brightened up. "It's OK, though. I don't remember him. Mama misses him a bit, though." Becky was saddened, but saw how optimistic Kali was and tried to be the same. The weight of what she had to tell Debbie, however, was keeping her down.

Finally, the orange blob that had to be Debbie stopped rolling, and it hunkered up onto its feet. This was the first time Becky had gotten a good view of Debbie, and she was startled. Debbie was tall and round, and she seemed to have a bubbly personality. Her clothes were entirely made up of bright colors and went beautifully with her hair done up in a tight brown bun. This was set apart from normal buns by the placement of two thick orange sticks pushed, Japanese-style, through it. The sticks were supporting a huge plastic butterfly. Her wand was drawn, but it was grubby and fingerprint-covered. Her shoes were brown, plain, and worn. This was the most interesting person Becky had ever seen (no one said she went out much!) and she liked her at once.

"You must be Becky!" Debbie cried out, grinning and stumbling over to her. "Oh, I've been looking forward so to meeting you! Tom told me all about you! So, how are you faring so far? Do you need anything? Kali's always ready to help," she said, smiling sternly down at her daughter, who glared up at her mother none too sourly, "and I'll help with all the cooking and decorating for the big event. What have you gotten for my favorite cousin?"

Becky noted somewhere in her subconscious that Debbie, Lord Voldemort's cousin, was the most cheerful, bubbly, and optimistic person she had ever met. "Well," Becky said, smiling and sounding almost nervous, "I've got a… surprise of sorts for Tommy."

Kali grinned. "She's gonna make him stop being the Lord Voldemort!" she said excitedly.

Debbie frowned slightly. "What are you going to do?" she asked worriedly. "You aren't going to… kill him, are you?"

Becky laughed. "Oh, no, Mrs. Destin. I'm just going to, er…" Becky suddenly wasn't so sure if she could tell Debbie exactly what she was planning to do. I mean, how could she tell Debbie, the one person in the entire world, and possibly beyond, who honestly seemed to care about Voldie-poo, that she was trying to force him to go senile?

Debbie blinked, then seemed to understand. "I see," she said with a soft smile. "You don't want to hurt him physically, but you want to put him out of the job. To do that, you have to impair his mental facilities. Am I correct?"

Kali looked up. "If that means that she wants to drive him kooky, then yes," she said simply.

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R&R, please!

Also, the next chapter is going to be long, just a warning! In the next chapter, we meet a new supporting character, who is going to help Becky convince Volders to dance the Chicken Dance. We also set up the party and Volders makes his big, dramatic entrance. Hold onto your seats, fellas! We're almost at the long-awaited party! I'm so excited!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Read the next one. My disclaimers will take on a whole new meaning.

Sorry it took so long to update, what with illness and makeup work. However, it's u now!

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Fk306 animelover: sounds good! If I can fit it in, I would love to do that!

starlover88: why, thank you! I'm still searching for good ones, but so far I haven't found any. Anyways, in the next chapter, it gets even better, so check back soon! (By soon, I mean, "like, in a month or two."

HannahCimsGwendolyn: Yeah, I thought that giving Volders a pair of absolute sweetheart/silly relatives, the whole thing for him would go downhill. I hope this works!

Belle: I have never had anyone tell me that my story "rocks green monkeys," so thank you very much! It sounds like a higher compliment than, say, "rocks blue slippers." Monkeys rock! Just a warning: this chapter is NOT spiffy. It's rather boring, funny-wise. Although the fake Imperious is rather hilarious to me.

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And now, on with the chappie!

Chapter Nine

Thunk.

Thunk.

"Peanut butter…"

Thunk.

"Attention shoppers: would the owner of the light blue Ford Anglia, license plate number 7990 TD, please return to your car. The lights can't decide whether to reflect it or not. Also, we need a Miss Cherry Pitt—er, we mean Pike, to come to the front desk and pick up your keys. You left them here."

"Now, which sushi is most slippery? Voldie-poo shouldn't be able to hold his food… now, where are the ugliest chopsticks…"

Bump.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, erm, no problem. Here's your, er… wand."

"…Thank you."

Becky watched Cherry Pike hurry down the aisle to the front desk. Apparently, she was a witch. She knew what Becky's wand was, and she didn't mind. Awesome. Becky continued scanning the aisles for good, slick sushi rice and absolutely disgusting-looking eating utensils native to Asian countries. She finally found a small box with Chinese writing all over it with English translations: "Good rice, great for sushi! Not sticky like common brands! Buy SushiKame Sushi Rice today!" Becky rolled her eyes but tossed it into the tiny cart. The foreign section of the humongous supermarket was large enough to have three long aisles all to its lonesome. Becky, becoming interested, left the food aisle before heading off to the checkout and headed to the foreign aisle next over. She glanced down and noticed all sorts of musical instruments and paintings. On the left side was a large poster in a silver frame for the highly famous Japanese movie "Spirited Away, directed by the acclaimed Hayao Miyazaki. On the right side of the aisle, however, was what took Becky's breath away.

Supported on a shelf, collecting dust, was a beautiful instrument, looking almost like a guitar with a triangular body. Designs were sprawled all over it, displaying this beautiful instrument in regal splendor. Just as Becky reached out to pick it up so she could look more closely at it, a small patter of footsteps came up behind her. After a moment, it spoke.

"It's a balalaika," Cherry said softly. She gingerly picked it up and strummed the strings, playing out a sweet sound that raised the hairs on the back of Becky's neck. The skilled balalaika player began to pluck out an eerily beautiful song, sweet and low, flowing around Becky in a whirl of beautiful music. She closed her eyes and began to walk up and down the aisle, strumming in a frighteningly gorgeous blend of spirit and music. As suddenly as the music began, however, it stopped, and the instrument was back on its shelf.

"I'm not very good," Cherry said, smiling at the floor. Becky's jaw dropped at the terrible tone in her voice. "Not very good"? Right! And Becky was a crup.

"I think that was a little more than good," Becky said, raising her eyebrow. She gave a little laugh. "Nah, it was closer to 'amazing.'" She grinned.

Cherry gave a grin of her own in reply.

After a moment, the balalaika player spoke to Becky's sandals. "Well, it's been nice meeting you." She smiled wider, and turned around, strolling down the aisle.

Becky stared after her, thinking. In her mind, she quickly went over the list of party favors for Voldie-kins. After a few seconds, she remembered something. "Cherry!" she called after the departing witch. Cherry turned around.

"You're very skilled at your music," Becky said, laying on the flattery. "I wonder…"

Cherry raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Can you play…" Becky began, grinning in a rather evil fashion, "…the funky chicken?"

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"Okay, you know the plan, right, guys?"

Debbie, Kali, Cherry, and Becky were all outside Volders' house, going over plans for the party. Debbie, Kali and Cherry were nodding, grinning to one another as they imagined defeating Voldemort via a birthday party. Cherry was absentmindedly strumming the balalaika while Kali listened and fiddled with a blade of grass. Debbie smiled as she saw the box of presents.

"Will it work, though?" Kali asked after a moment. "Will he lose it?"

Becky sighed. "Perhaps," she said grimly, "and perhaps not. You see, Debbie and Kali are safe, and I'm going to false Imperious you to play, so you're all three okay."

Kali quickly raised her hand.

"You're not in school," Becky said, grinning again. "You don't have to raise your hand. What is it?"

Kali put down her hand and asked, with an inquisitive look on her face, "What's a 'fake Imperious'?" By the looks on the faces of the two others, they were wondering the same thing.

Becky smiled, and pointed her wand at Kali.

"Don't curse Kali!" Debbie yelled, but she was too late. There was a flash of blue light, and Kali was sitting docile, staring at Becky.

While Debbie had a minor breakdown, Becky walked right up to Kali at whispered, "Do a back flip, but only if you want to."

In a hollow tone, Kali said, "I can't do a back flip, so I don't want to." After she spoke, she looked as surprised as you could when you're being a statue, and asked, "What's wrong with my voice?" still monotonously.

Becky grinned. "You can do a back flip when under the fake Imperious," she said cheerfully.

Kali still looked confused, but she stood up and began to breathe hard. After a moment, she took a deep breath and suddenly did a series of five back flips across the evil yard. She ended her amazing stunt, smiled blankly, and looked hollowly at Becky.

Becky simply smiled and waved her wand. Kali broke out into a grin and practically yelled, "I did a back flip!" Doing an odd little jig on the wet grass, she chanted in a sing-song voice, "I did a back flip, I did a back flip…"

Debbie, astounded, leapt up and ran to her dancing daughter. Giving her a huge hug, she turned to Becky and said in an odd voice, "What made that happen?"

Becky tried very hard not to look too proud of herself. "The fake Imperious causes you to speak and act like you're full under the Imperious curse. The only thing different, in fact, is the ability to choose whether you want to do what you're commanded or not. The command gives you the ability, but you're not actually forced to do it."

After a short silence, Cherry allowed a small grin to cross her face. "This means that I'll be playing and seeming to be under the spell's complete control, but I personally won't feel bewitched." She nodded, as if she approved, and Debbie and Kali were doing the same.

Becky grinned, but it was a sad one. "Now you know how safe you three are," she said softly, "you need to know how the rest of this will go."

Kali got a worried brow fixed up on her head. "What's gonna happen to you?"

Becky looked down at the grass, pink as the sunset neared. "I'm… probably going… to die," she mumbled. "It's the only way to send him overboard."

There was a silence for a moment, then Kali said softly, "We're not going to let that happen." She came right up to Becky. "He's not going to kill you." She turned around, and suddenly she was the one in the authoritative position. "Come on, everyone!" she said, sounded like she was gathering people in a mob to cheer on the team. "We've got to think of something!" She glared at everyone until the got a thinking look on their faces.

After a moment of deep thought, Kali allowed a small smile to spread across her face. Slowly, she looked straight at Becky and said, with a crafty grin compounded with mirth, "You know, Becky… you could say to him…" She walked right up to Becky and whispered in her ear. Slowly, Becky began to grin. She nodded, and as one, the group began to head back to the mansion, bathed in golden light as the sun set in anticipation of the next day's party.

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For the millionth time, Becky rifled through the presents, making sure everything necessary was there. Food was cooked, placed carefully on tables. The cake was covered in a thick pink icing, Debbie was ready to take the blame, and Becky had practiced what she was going to tell Tommy-boy. She still wasn't sure she could pull it off, but she had to try.

Finally! As everyone's synchronized watches began to beep as one, telling all present that it was nine o'clock, the group right outside the party room entered the redone plotting room. Pastel colors were everywhere, offset by little Care Bears. Perfect.

The Death Eaters were all scowling, various looks of disgust, fear, dislike, and hilarity were flashing everywhere across the walls. Coming though the door were four silly people with a mission. Becky was leading Kali, Cherry, and Debbie, and she carried the large box of presents, all wrapped with care. She strained slightly under the pressure, but she survived the hike to the Present Corner. Giving a nod to Debbie, the bubbly cousin of Tom Marvolo Riddle ran off to fetch the birthday boy.

After waiting a moment, there was a knock on the door, and Debbie came in, holding the door closed. "He's right outside," she hissed.

Becky nodded, and she turned to everyone else. In a loud voice, she cried out, "Now, the evil mastermind you've all been waiting for! Introducing a man who is not only incredibly handsome and brilliant, but can also sing!" She allowed a dramatic pause, then cried out, "Here he is… Lord Voldemort!" Quickly transforming a piece of lint by her foot into a trumpet, picking up a drum, and snagging the bag of rice, she allowed Debbie to let him in. As Becky rolled the drum across the floor, threw the bag of rice above his head so that it smashed against the wall behind him and showered him with rice, and playing an ugly trumpet blare, Lord Voldemort entered the room.


	10. A Quick Author's Note

A Quick Author's Note

Hello, and thank you to everyone who has bothered to read my fanfiction! The reviews I have gotten over the past month have continually given me happiness, so I simply want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed for making my day.

Here's my second note: I have just put up a new story, Memory of the Night. It concerns Phantom of the Opera, so all you Phans out there can head over there.

Third thing to say: When I said in chapter eight that the chapter was going to be long, I meant it. However, for those of you who dislike the fact that I stopped chapter 9 on a cliffhanger, you're really going to hate me for the next chapter… the cliffhanger will have you screaming at me, and the chapter containing said cliffhanger will be rather long. It's Voldie-poo's party, after all. There's a lot to get done.

Now, when I read over chapter 9, I noticed the comment about the car outside the department store at the beginning that "can't decide whether to reflect the lights or not," and it seemed a bit more obscure than intended. This was a play on the phrase, "You left your lights on," and was referring to the Ford Anglia that the Weasleys owned. Since the lights can't reflect the car when it's invisible, and since the invisibility switch on the car is faulty, I thought it made sense.

One last comment, then I shall allow you to go back to your daily lives. I reread chapters 8 and 9 again, and I noticed that, coinciding with a comment one of my lovely reviewers sent in, my character Kali did seem a tad "Mary-Sue"-ish. I'd like to apologize to my friend Salaam for this, but I did base Kali off of her, my amazing friend. I suppose I did overdo her a bit. Although the description of her looks is accurate, I just tried to flatter Salaam, which I probably shouldn't have done. She's going to be more human in future chapters, as opposed to some odd and slightly obnoxious little Miss Perfect and Sweet.

Okay, now you guys can go back to your daily lives!

Your obedient servant,

PW


	11. Chapter 10

OMG I'm SOOOOOOOO SORRY that it took me so long to update! Around when I was at chapter ten, I started displaying weird symptoms, but not to go into anything in detail, I went and had brain surgery this summer. I'm leaving for Chicago in a few days, actually, to perhaps have more. But to all my (few) fans-

I'M SO SORRY! bawls

Thanks to all my faithful reviewers- I went back and read your comments, and I feel all fuzzy inside. Thanks for the green monkeys, cheese and other such joys. You guys rock green monkeys! (And a nice bit of Gorgonzola.)

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Disclaimer: Who cares?

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Chapter 10

Voldemort was stunned, frozen in place at the spectacle in his plotting room. It was filled with people. Death Eaters in brightly colored robes, sipping kool-aid in swirling hues, wandered the room and began to make pleasant conversation. A small group of guitarists and Japanese personnel were huddling in one corner, strumming their instruments, adjusting microphones, and chittering to each other in hurried Japanese. Another group of musicians were at the other side of the room, strumming ukuleles, blasting out accordion tunes, apologizing loudly for their interruption of their merriment, and warning everyone that, when they begin playing and singing, the group assembled had better not show any sign that they are enjoying the music. This was bringing Kali and her band of friends to fits of hysterical and uncontrollable giggles.

Other witches and wizards were meandering around the room, sending him little side-glances as they whispered about the supposed "Dark Lord." Some children were there, playing with wands and sending sparks everywhere. Other children, older teenagers who were from Hogwarts or other wizarding schools, were helping out their parents or the hired bands set up the extra, un-set-up items for the big event.

Becky quickly left where she had blown the fake trumpet blare and rolled the drum so that she couldn't be identified and headed over to a man who was playing the accordion for the second group of musicians. She was talking animatedly with him, discussing something about "wonderful author" and "famous, depressing books" while he thanked her with grace and discussed his plans for the Baudelaire orphans in the last book. She was smiling widely, but when she noticed that Voldemort had entered the room, she excused herself, saying in a rushed whisper, "Tell Stephin that he needs to start up!" When asked what they were to play, she hissed back, "I Wish I Had An Evil Twin!" and ran up to the evil man.

She briefly pinched the cruel master of evil deeds in the arm, and he squealed spectacularly. Voldemort glared at her, looking livid, but she just grinned her in her usual, far-too-optimistic way, and the band started up. She smiled over at the man she had been talking to a moment before, whispered "Thanks, Daniel- I mean, Lemony!" and walked over to Cherry, who was up against the wall and strumming her balalaika mindlessly.

"Ready?" Becky asked. Cherry gritted her teeth and nodded. Becky waved her wand, and softly whispered, "Commence plan."

Cherry looked up, blank face holding as much forgetfulness as it is possible to hold. "I forgot what I was going to ask…" she muttered, then seemed to remember. "Oh, yes! What are you going to say to Voldemort?"

Becky sighed. "I have nothing to say," she mumbled. "Kali's plan won't work after all."

Cherry looked panicked, but Becky shushed her. "Play," she hissed, and walked up to Voldemort.

"Let's boogie!" she said, grinning, noticing with worry that Voldemort didn't think the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory reference was funny. Hastily, she began to dance the Funky Chicken as Cherry started up.

Kali ran up to Becky right at that moment, along with all her little friends. "Hey, Becky!" she said excitedly. "Here are my new friends." She turned to her little bunch of girls behind her. "This is Maegann," she began, and a grinning girl with long brown hair waved happily. "This is Qatherinn," she continued, and a slightly frowning girl raised a hand in a silent wave. Kali finally turned to the last two girls there, a tall black girl with glasses and her load, a short girl with long blond hair and an overload of makeup. "Lastly, these are Elantra and Autumn," she said, indicating each in turn. Elantra waved with a toothy smile, while Autumn, who was unconscious, just lay there in Elantra's arms.

Elantra leaned in to Becky so that she could be heard over both the Funky Chicken and "Evil Twin." "She's so excited to be here," she said, grinning ridiculously, "that she passed out when she saw the Order coming up the street."

Becky blanched, eyes growing wide. "You're kidding!" she hissed. "They can't be coming!" As she saw Voldemort heading her way, she ran over to the window. Sure enough, walking up the drive was the entire Order of the Phoenix, wands lit and held high in the impending darkness.

She panicked as the song ended and the other band began their music. "Me, Japanese Boy!" came from the other side of the room as Becky began to breath hard, breath growing shallow. In a haze of worry, she Apparated up to Debbie and hissed, "Cake! Refreshments! Now! And the gifts!" Without another word, she left to get the Twister game.

Kali left her group of friends, who immediately looked a little relieved to not have to follow her around anymore. Qatherinn and Maegann went up to the first band, while Elantra headed over to a luv sac and placed Autumn down on it, rolling her eyes. Qatherinn was staring intently up at the Magnetic Fields, while Maegann was glaring over at Pizzicato Five. After a moment, Qatherinn stepped up on stage and strode right up to Stephin Merritt, the lead singer and instrumentalist, and held out her hand. Coldly, she stated, "You signed a poster for me."

While Stephin recognized her as the devoted fan he had once given a prized birthday present to, Becky gave Twister to Kali. Then, she went up to Debbie and hissed shrilly, "The cake! Serve! Now!" With a hurried nod, Kali's mother hurried over to the refreshment table and began slicing the cake.

Voldemort walked right up to Becky, who was beginning to allow something along the lines of panic cross her face. Taking care of an entire party with so much planned was exhausting, and the Dark Lord approaching didn't make anything any better. With a small hiss that set her skin crawling, he said softly, "What is going on here?"

Becky began to fiddle with the hem of her robes. "Oh, it's your birthday," she said, hiding almost all traces of nervousness from her voice. "We just wanted to make it special!" Voldemort began to protest, but Becky quickly shushed him. "Want to play a game?" she asked innocently.

"No."

"A card game?"

Voldemort seemed to think about it this time. A game was different from a CARD game.

After a moment, he nodded. "Okay," he replied, seeming to regret the idea the moment he said it. Becky grinned.

She led him over to the small table in the corner, then as she said, "You wait here," she leapt up and ran over to Elantra.

"Elantra, buddy, good pal o' mine," she said hurridly, while Elantra gave her a thoroughly weird look, "could you do me a huge favor and go watch the Order and tell me when they arrive? Pretty please?"

Elantra shrugged. "As long as it means I'm back before Pizzicato Five is playing 'Twiggy, Twiggy.'" With just a thumbs-up at the band she was referring to, she turned around and left.

Becky could breathe a little easier as she sat back down across the table from Voldemort and began to deal cards with a shaky hand. Twenty cards had already been given to the both of them, and now she had to hand five cards to each. As she explained the rules of Spite and Malice, Qatherinn, up on the stage alongside Stephin Merritt, began to sing along with him, which woke up Autumn. Maegann ran over and immediately began talking to her, to her great annoyance. Who wants to talk to some girl when you could talk to Harry Potter?

Voldemort nodded curtly as Becky finished explaining the very addictive card game and muttered, "Let's get this over with." He deftly laid down a jack of spades in a discard pile and then looked up sharply behind Becky's head.

Elantra had alighted right behind the crafty young witch, panting nervously. "The Order is in the building!" she hissed, not meaning to sound like an announcement for Elvis. "They're on the lower floor!"

Becky blanched and stood up. "Play," she said curtly and ran out of the room. Elantra sat uncomfortably across from Voldemort and waved meekly. Voldemort glared back.

The stomping of Becky's feet was loud and booming in the large house as she ran down the stairs. The group of Voldemort-defeater-wannabes was coming quickly toward her, but stopped short when she came up to Harry, who was leading the way.

Mrs. Weasley poked her head over the assembled group. "Becky?" she asked timidly. "Is that you?" When she received a panicked nod, she walked forward and gave her usual, all-encompassing hug.

Becky struggled free and frowned. "You're not supposed to be here!" she said, feeling the onset of helpless tears. The usual rock-solid witch was quickly losing it as well as her target, though not nearly as badly. "Voldemort can't see you here! He'll kill you!"

Harry smiled kindly, holding Ginny's hand firmly. "We're not here for the party. We didn't even know it was a party until we saw some of the other people flying over with gifts. By the way, did you know you invited two band entirely consisting of muggles?" Becky nodded. "Well, anyways," the raven-haired boy continued, "we actually came to check on you and make sure you were doing well," Many of the other Order members nodded.

Becky smiled weakly. "I really am thankful for your concern," she said hurridly, "and not meaning to sound rude, but—"

Remus smiled is kind smile, also holding onto a hand—Tonks'—firmly. "But you have a party to attend to," he finished for her. Becky nodded, her head almost drooping. "We understand. We'll be going." He gently guided the others in an about-face, and they called over their shoulder, "Bye, Becky! Good luck!"

"Thanks," she murmured, and turned around, heading up the stairs once more.

When she alighted on the second floor, Pizzicato Five was already playing "Strawberry Sleighride," much to the annoyance of Elantra, who had just discovered that they had already played "Twiggy, Twiggy." Meanwhile, Autumn was eagerly waiting for Becky to come up with Harry. When Becky explained that the Order had left, the tiny girl burst into tears. Maegann wandered over and tried to console her, but it was no use.

Stephin Merritt-- and Qatherinn-- were singing "Yeah! Oh, Yeah!" much to the enjoyment of the crowd. They were getting a lot of laughs, particularly since Qatherinn could sing the "nah nah nah" bit better than Stephin. They were deftly turning the volume up, trying to outsing Pizzicato Five. Becky rolled her eyes in extreme annoyance at absolutely everything she had to do and walked over to Voldemort.

He was playing cards intently with Elantra, and she informed him smugly, "You know, you have no poker face." Becky blinked when she was speaking part of her plans. "How can you rule the world without one?"

Voldemort threw down his cards. He was losing anyway. "That's it!" he roared. He stood and glared at Becky. "If I have to participate in this insipid party, can I please do something else?"

Becky nodded, easily slipping into her acting mode again. "Of course!" she practically squealed, so high that Stephin stopped singing for a moment and covered his already sensitive ears. "Present time!" she turned to the crowd and yelled, "Bring out the presents!"

With a deafening roar, everyone who had a present (surprisingly, quite a few people) ran over and placed their gift on the floor in front of the evil wizard. Becky grinned and selected a present for him to open.

For ten minutes, he was opening presents, much to his great annoyance. Then, Becky selected a special present from the stack. "This is one of the last few!" she called out. "It had better be good!" She handed it to Voldemort, hoping that the flower Kali had bought was absolutely hideous.

Voldemort took the present and gingerly unwrapped the package, shaking it slightly. He finally had removed all the paper and looked at the gift—it was a grow-yourself cactus. Qatherinn whispered something in Stephin's ear, which caused him to grin and nod. He passed it on to all the other members of his band and struck up "A Cactus Where Your Heart Should Be."

Voldemort glared furiously at Kali, but she just grinned. Placing the gift aside, Becky continued on by handing him one of the last gifts. The next package was small and almost noiseless, so it was open in his hand in about four seconds. Debbie's stress ball was small and red, perfect for a livid mastermind. He snarled this time at his cousin, but she just smiled and waved. The Dark Lord sighed angrily and demanded, "What's the last package?"

Becky grinned. "You'll have to see, but considering it's from Mrs. Weasley, I don't think we'll have a hard time figuring it out, will we?" She got a good laugh from the crowd.

Voldemort blanched, if it is even possible for him to get any paler. "Mrs. Weasley?" he sputtered. He didn't know that the item was mislabeled, of course, and was terrified of what it could be. Some Mudblood-like witch, giving him presents? The mere thought of it was disgusting. Carefully unwrapping the parcel, he stared in horror of his disgusting sweater. He automatically held it up to get a better look, and the entire assembled group burst into laughter—except for the bands and Cherry, who were much too busy and professional to do anything like that. Voldemort looked more upset than Becky had ever seen him.

Suddenly suspicious, he turned to his young pseudo-Apprentice. "What did you give me?" he asked in a very soft voice.

Becky let off a large party-popper in his face. "I'm about to give it to you! Hold on a sec."

Becky hurried right over to the Magnetic Fields, who were arguing whether or not to play "Your Long White Fingers" in homage to Voldemort. Qatherinn was in the back of the group, strumming her favorite song, "Irma," on the ukulele. In the time it had taken for the party to get in full swing, she had gotten to know everyone in the group well, and Stephin trusted her enough to play on one of his ukuleles. Becky cut right in and asked that a very special song- one of her favorite songs- to be played. They looked kind of startled, but she begged, and they cautiously started up. She quickly got Daniel Handler- AKA Lemony Snicket- to sing the song and the others to sing back-up while she went and gave the most dangerous part of the entire party to Voldemort-- the speech.

Powerful chords boomed out over the magical speakers, and Daniel, Qatherinn and Claudia all began singing as one, "Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street…" They were the highest voices.

Pizzicato Five was attempting to out-play the Magnetic Fields, but Becky cut them off with an annoyed slash of her hand across her throat. The band stopped again, miffed.

Nervously, Becky looked around at the assembled guests. She addressed what little of the party was still there and motioned to Voldemort. Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she opened her mouth and began.

"Everyone," she called, her voice quivering, "this is the man we all have come to know and love. Voldemort has done some of the most amazing stuff the wizarding and muggle world alike has ever seen in their lives. He has killed Dumbledore, learned how to make drinks to rival Starbucks, and even played Twister with our children or tomorrow." She indicated Maegann and Kali, who were too busy listening to Magnetic Fields playing "When My Boy Walks Down the Street" to notice.

"Life just kinda dances through ya from your smile down to your feet…" Claudia looked nervously up at the sponsor of their private gig, wondering if she was going to make it.

Becky continued. "Yes, this is a man of many talents. Perhaps the name Voldemort doesn't demand as much respect as, say, 'Potter' or 'Dumbledore', but it is still a name worthy to be noticed. Even though Argus Filch will one day rule the world."

Daniel glanced worriedly up at Becky. She was digging a mighty deep hole for herself. They had been let in on the plan as well, and he wasn't sure that it would go very well. Unfortunately, if it didn't, then it would be going all according to plan. "Oh, shadows of echoes of memories…" he sang out, without any real conviction.

Cherry saw that Voldemort was slowly approaching Becky, but she didn't dare call out. It would seem as though she wasn't under the spell at all. Suddenly realizing that she had stopped playing, she quickly began to play along with Stephin and the rest, even though she had never heard it in her life. No one noticed.

Becky didn't notice the slowly approaching evil man. She was slowly gaining confidence. "Yes," she said, summoning up a great tear, "this is the man we will always remember as the evil pussycat we all knew and loved."

Knowing that she was taking her life into her hands, she grabbed a bottle of Inasnum, a drink that literally translated to "insanity." One small sip, and the instantly effective drink would render all common sense useless and completely dull all senses. After only a few minutes, you would barely be able to control your own actions, and could luckily not be very smart or have very good survival skills. You could easily be defeated- if you never drank very much. She poured a little of the almost deadly drink into a crystal goblet and handed it to the livid Voldemort.

"Drink up," she whispered. He snarled, downed it in one gulp, and glared at her. She watched the sense leave his eyes even as she stood there and terrifying recklessness take hold. Right at that moment, Becky realised how dangerous this all was.

"Becky!" Voldemort screeched. Just as the song was ending, he raised his wand above her head. "You have taunted me- deliberately taunted me- far too much! That is it! That is simply it! You shall die!" His hood fell back, and everyone gasped at his face. Erik, who had been hiding in the shadows in the back of the room, flashed a red noose in awe of a face more frightening than his own.

Becky began to cry.

The truly evil Voldie-kins grinned down at the helpless girl- for that was really what she was, a little girl, terrified of what she had to do, a love-stricken child who couldn't contain her emotions any longer. It all came pouring out of her in a torrent of tears. None of this softened Voldemort, however. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't," he hissed in his high, cruel voice.

Becky looked up, tears staining her face in her distress. "No!" was all she could manage to say. However, she seemed to be struggling to say something.

Not that Voldemort cared. Slowly, seeming to enjoy every second, he lowered his wand right to her neck. "Say goodbye, Becky," he whispered.

Finally, she choked out the three little words that she had been trying to say the entire time she had been there. At them, she broke down into hysterical sobbing. Everyone gasped except the emotionless people there—namely, Qatherinn and Stephin. They just raised their eyebrows. Everyone else was frozen, shocked. The three little words were:

"I… love… you!"


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